the insects that are not aliens surfing club

the first epoch

welcome to the first epoch of the insects that are not aliens surfing club - timeless joy. to be taken to the second epoch, please click on the pic or go to http://insectsurf.tumblr.com/ but don't blow your mynd...away

parsley dreaming

mythological petals and flowers and surfing tyme in hallucination bay - a delicious ride into the unconscious mynd of surfing - you can hear in the distance mad trains to the heart of a port city and the spirit of surfing and beyond that too - the australian surfing resurrection infinately cosmic post-dogger-post-corporate surfing for truth! - in parsley dreams (stay out of the maze)

pic dean darby

a portal on the verge of the psychic realm (other side) - click to be transported to the the insects that are not aliens surfing club - eternal recurrence - a brief interlude on the tryp to the second epoch

forever mysteries and ? in the new dawn of australian surfing

a weatherboard wall of mystery in a byron back-street conjures up the spectre of lachlan leckie out of eternity 10 years into the future unphotographable except by the hobo photographer dean darby

the otchkies shake-up the mad regime!

The Australian surfing resurrection: Shake-it brothers and sisters of the wyld knight!

take the trip now with a loose cast of duffel coat disciples in an ironic maroon volvo bound for an inner space journey along the smaller, forgotten routes from sydney to noosa heads, australia

a strange apparition lingering around a kiosk in tugan

non-time

the australian surfing resurrection - pie shop sinners

A pie shop in Avalon imagines the enduring spirit of surfing: past, present, future (undead) - thanks Trevor Newby for this godly pic found in a north beach shack

the entranceway to play

Sitting in a parlor, in a straight-back chair. Your mother slowly starts to descend the stairs. The butler ushers me out the door. Your mother told him said to wait outside. Where is the entranceway to play? Where is the entranceway to play? Play, play, play, play, play. Play, play, play, play, play the Count Five surfboard - Thomas Bexon shaping, Jake William Bowery glass, The Hot Generation lurking in the madness of the dream...

channel five (tune in) - dean darby

peter tork considers the count five surfboard and is illuminated by the spirit of 66

dean darby the photographer is a mysterious hobo from the dank shacks of an edge suburb near a desert - jazzed - flashing (have you seen the saucers?)

the gato-set

evan daley-tripper stands erect with a wild death dagger. click on the pic for more far-out foils from his venus mind

when the waves are big in sydney, the more adventurous surfers head to the harbour. here, matt chojnacki, palm beach's pomade king, barefoot psychobilly, the greaser, surfs an unlikely wave of pleasure as a strange boy looks on - amazed - matty has done it again! (nancy sinatra and lee hazelwood are similarly impressed as they look out from a tree, one velvet morning in sydney, australia, the harbour city) - pic bluesnapper

'this place agrees with me more than any place i have ever known...'

the mysical salty merchants

while travelling in the deserts of new world america with a wild temptress on a paisley camel, lachlan leckie was infected by a strange hallucinogenic germ passed down body to body from his ancestors until it reached his own. potentially poisonous, the germ induced convultions and near death but ultimately gave rise to the mystical salty merchants

ancient seaman - leckie clan

mystical salty merchants loaded camel tee - coolangatta culdesac production - these are made by one of australia's keenest artists and vee bottom surfers. for more information and designs, or to get one, go to http://www.thesaltymerchants.com/blograil/, click on the pic or visit the australian surfing resurrection

shake-up the new dawn brothers and sisters of the knight!

five years into the future the insects that are not aliens surfing club (depicted by the mad photographer dean darby) at hallucination bay countering the narrowing circles of the surfing form into ever widening spheres of pure spirit into eternity and the insane cosmos (beyond)

wild cave girls in a mystery

messiah

ghost of kent turkich

Some mournful boomtown pine trees imagine The Messiah (Mark Matisons) in a strange embrace with the eternal undead spirit of surfing at Hallucination Bay. Moving to the mad-bebop-rhythm of his purest being, for pleasure; wild-eyed-exuberant and trance-like in parallel stance. Phil Edwards stands on a hill (gleeful-ecstatic-joy at this wild scene of deliverance from the frail chains of surfing for commerce or competition). In a too-clean cafeteria some zombies eat bacon, smug.

mockers

mods and rocker unite to discuss the sequential, cyclical, moving-ever-changing form of surfing in the new era, and 1966, next week in noosa heads

it's a new dawn (noosa 2012)

doomy noosa afternoon of love

a catastrophic cloud evokes an image of a surfer on a noosa point while dane peterson takes a picture of that scene. for more sensitive surfing pictures by (the in-love) dane go to http://www.danepetersonphotography.com/ or click on pic

more gato heroi surfboards from the back-alleys of manly beach, australia!

a death dagger surfboard made by sickrat during a period of heightened insight (for angelo). more gatos on the way to australia - click on the pic for more information (postdoggers!)

the great gut-slide sensation! - noosa 2012

a surprising uprising of honest surfing spirit

insect tee shirts available presently for saturday's children

shake-up the new dawn - acid mushroom of illusion

count five! - eternal summer 66

trip through the endless circles of tomorrow

(keith) paul enters the insect trust

returning from the northern desert communes with a head full of stems and flowers, (keith) paul is overcome with joy as the young postdogger is presented with an exciting proposition - a deal with the insects that are not aliens surfing club rumoured to be valued somewhere in the double figures. a star member of the insect exhibition team, appearing in truck stops, kiosks and beat cafes across australia this summer. full of hope - gazing into the eternal turquoise sky blue lavender paisley – wishing up a dream – 1000 years ago

a group of cave-girls appears savage

an uncomfortably long (eternal) hand-shake confirms the deal. the resurrection beckons (bexon shapes a surfboard)

greatings to blake 7 from sydney, australia, and to gato heroi!

blake 7 displays the first gato heroi surfing board to touch the desperate soil of the western colonies of australia. the boys commemorated this auspicious occasion with a very gay celebration, marvelling at the cunning manoeuvrability of the keenly designed ‘space pig’ which compared favourably in all aspects of functionality, enabling the advanced rider to transverse the wave at an acute angle in a fashion conducive to 'hot' action and thrills! (upon his return to sydney, something happened to blake 7, something went pop - he lost all his bananas)

donna flower child

900 million people making love

lost in a dream, peter farrelly falls off the edge of his mind

love the flower child. godfather of garage. sky saxon is in my head

kent turkich makes surfing shirts in a salmon brick penthouse on the side-streets of an australian beach on the edge of a city of people. a candle looks forlorn. burnt out

seedpsych ***!

farrelly

sky saxon turns his back on tyme (and space) - slippn' and falln'

peter farrelly paints the sky with his mind's eye while riding a long wave, noosa heads, queensland, australia (a head floats in the warm water)

all praise postdoggerism! thank the lord (keven brennan)

gato heroi - what's on your mind? the ballad of the hip dead proclaims - 'A true postdogger in any give surf situation remains casual yet expresses through gesture, maneuver, or trick his or her relationship with the wave and the ocean's unpredictability. In this casualness, a postdogger's personalty is shown. Remember personalities differ in certain degrees from postdogger to postdogger, no right or wrong, overt or introvert. Sometimes the most functional maneuver is doing absolutely nothing and just standing there. Riding in the tube, fits the perfect example. Sometimes, just a smile fits the definition. Sometimes, just being a cool cat in the critical section and then whipping out some insane gesture when faced with the act of wave riding follows the spontaneous ethos of postdoggerism.' (Edfactor @ Gato, pic of Evan Daley Tripper entering the sacred mushroom of abstract sound on final-scenes-hot-generation-spaceship by PERO)

a strange party of executives imagines miki dora concurring with the previous sentiments

gato heroi wild adventure into the inner realm of oz

every man searches for himself in some way...Evan Daley-Tripper has the need to feel the sun, sand and sea close to him in his seach for himself...Gato Heroi is a revolutionary breakthrough into the universal mind of surfing - a divine embrace with the reality of free-thought surf and love in the new world Australia (http://www.gatoheroioz.blogspot.com/ or click on this pic and it will transform you forthwith)

boy receives new gato - next week

be like an insect, (love the flower child)

insects shake-it

the waves are fast and tight. the messiah, (keith) paul and kent are...turning on

hallucination bay - travel with your mind

phil edwardian revisionist the messiah cutting back on a wave (paul smyth pic - click to be taken there)

(keith) paul enters the insect trust

(keith) paul flower child from the northern garages and desert communes - saturdays child free and wylde - shares a little joke with the world - insect trust member in good standing - ariseth!

(keith) paul - what's got into you?

?

the truth about surfing

Thank the lord. Praise be to Keven Brennan (always). The future may yet make more sense than we could have hoped; the previous generation will be enraged to hear the spirit rising again against bland uniformity - main street surf magazines revealed as they truly are (a pack of lies) – main street surf shops crumbling – blind subordination of the individual to the faceless organization wearing thin – the quest for normalcy looking rather forlorn – a pack of lies on it’s deathbed. How so sir? Justin Bevan - northern beaches prophet meaningfully capturing the mood of crazy young allies who surf for the new dawn. Dane Peterson speculation - in love with a wild girl in golden eternity. Kent Turkich west coast distribution. Something significant is taking place – Foam Symmetry. (click on pic for the scoop, rubbernecks!)

tim crabtree's wild trip

Tim Crabtree investigating the wisdom of walls on the verge of an Insect Trust funded trip to the new world – sailing to the Americas, strange ungodly creatures, mermaids, astronomy… - Karl Mackie Photography (click on pic)

the spiders

cosmic signals from Tokers Sliding Commune

The Otchkies. Flower children able to move teacups with will-power. Making blinkered minds crumble like scones. Turn up your radio freaks! - http://www.triplejunearthed.com/THEOTCHKIES (or click on image)

shake-up the new dawn

another planet

The Messiah (seen here going right) - the world's finest exponent or the functional style of surfing. Armageddon just around the corner - mushroom clouds falling - acid rain falling on some sad black hills where giant scorpions and other snakey mysteries live beneath a desert city (gone batty).

mystical salty merchants

lachlan leckie hanging around the deserts, ports and jazz cafeterias of southern california...tomorrow

jimmy - dangerous - looking for frantic kicks in a hot neighbourhood

miki dora running on his own time

sidestreet psych - a turning point - the otchkies are the sound of the resurrection

the creatures

the otchkies shake-up the new dawn

the otchkies come with the morning reign and conduct a wyld affair in the southern most regions of the mind (click on the pic to be transported)

spring-joy-sun

Blast-off! Suspended in a waking-dream state, the interstellar space hobbit Lachlan Leckie conducts skull-bursting-mindless-headcocks in wild fantasy seas of velvet; Keven Brennan beams-in from another epoch, signalling the Australian Surfing Resurrection (and clearly too much to dream last night). Bobby Limb back announces The Masters Apprentices from a kiosk on the edge of tyme…

midget farrelly cutting back

it's a mod mod world

Extradited from the Australian colonies, Tim Crabtree (a stowaway, a mad mod, a gentleman) retraces the serpentine journey of his ancestor Rodney Sumpter through the fields, marshes and haunted castles of his homeland , somewhere between Newquay and the orbit of Neptune; carrying a suitcase full of secrets and a Middle Earth midlength – a child’s bike horn announces the insect surfer’s arrival at the Edge of Entropy – talking hedgehogs – talking clouds – rubbing shoulders with the mystical past (Merlin, The Mad Hatter) while looking like a trainee accountant.

rising from the paisley underground

five years ahead of it's time - midlength mind rocker for insect surfer dee - shaped by thomas bexon and glassed by jake bowrey

the folklords

the otchkies

Culdesac-psych-rock band The Otchkies krept out of the swamps of Tumbulgum, New South Wales, Australia, like a mist - crawling up the walls of the sad town like a scream - disjointed oriental blues - Taman Shudesque levitation – moving objects with only the will of the mind – brash cowboys wandering up the garden path to a higher plain – fairy tales and fairy floss fairly far out – head spinning beautiful sounds snatched from an eternal summer. The Insects caught up with Angus Russel from The Otchkies, or at least a strange vision of Angus, a ghost, to further explore the depths of this notorious yet hazy entity – a band name whispered by crazy mod girls in Gold Coast carparks – uttered by crazy sharpies over Chiko Rolls in front of haunted kiosks – not dared spoken about in darkened pool halls. I asked – What is The Otchkies? He responded – ‘the mystic desert it is…don’t suppose there’s any Soft Machine cover bands playing tonight?’

the creatures

insect trip - go!

Dream it up baby – creeping out of a quagmire through to the paisley covered moon valley of joy – black rain subsiding - it's too much - just call an ambulance! - before they come to get me I’ll be somewhere they can’t find me – surfing on the other side of the moon with bobby brown - eternal summer ecstacy (the count five psych-out space log coming soon…watch this inner space)

barefoot bodgie

gleeful surf store

up a garden path - some gnomes hiding - ghosts of bodgies kreeping around in desert boots

scarborough longboards - a golden room of surfing secrets offering resistance on the edge of the boom town

the universe is permeated with the odour of paisley

tim crabtree - a mad mod exradited after stowing away to the colonies, living under a mushroom for too many hazy years to recall - found this gleeful stubby in a psychedelic picnic in the homeland, in a dream

the pandoras snarling garage

count 3 - the messiah

sad-haunted-ship-crazy-moon-child

a far out trip into the paisley underground

Wolf girl took me down a port city street on a foggy knight – black rain – floods - something strange in a deep sea cave beneath – breathing heavy like a giant sleeping moon-monster – cracking the port city buildings, the gaol, the haunted lunatic asylum - it appeared in night-terrors – an angel of death. Wolf girl steps aside into a shadow. She picks up a jar of eternity laying in this sidesteet since 1966, which had been reopened once or twice since then, and subsequently abandoned until now. The vessel contains the secrets of the paisley undgerground. Wolf girls eye's are wild.

kent turkich meets the critical slide society

Kent Turkich is an aspergic hobo with a Keven Brennan fixation travelling somewhere between the edge cities of Western Australia, Noosa Heads, Queensland, and Armageddon. This head-cocking-former-professor has pursued a paradigm shift reported to him on the red telephone - a prophecy transmitted in 1966 to the present day - a disposition which anticipates and rejects! the mad insane complex which has confined the breadth of surfing into commerce and competition and alienated the individual. Despite the darkness that seeks to sell it in stylised quantities, this freek has steered usually rudderless toward timeless surfing – meddling in midlength vee bottoms, 1966 pigs and wooden bellyboards to a scratchy soundtrack of regional garage punk – shoeless tin spaghetti eating rambling in the desert – a resurrection of the self… timeless joy (click on pic for tcss link - creeps!)

kent at first point, noosa heads, australia

a port city at night

a strange seafarer rides a wave of discontent on the edge of the desert, in the boomtown - a ghastly solitude in the background - primordial darkness breaths restlessly in the limestone caverns beneath - eels - troglodytes...mad dead sailors!

just let yourself go

raoul braithwaite - a mod from the inner city - life member of the paisley underground - crazy bing disc in indonesia - cutting back on a wave

in australia - a strange stubbie shaped by jordan nobel in the side-streets...of his own mind!

the seeds

wild surf on the shores of australia!

captain parrish watts escorts a distressed hipster from almost certain death in the treacherous waters of first point, noosa heads, securing the loyalty of the lad (jared mell) with a refreshing beverage! pic dane peterson

and whatever next?! harold holt (sporting the latest in surfy attire) has a laugh with the ladies! take it easy harold - you're out numbered!

the australian surfing resurrection continues to mount...

limitless pleasure on the edge of tyme

evan daley - the daley tripper - a californian expat messing with tyme and some of the finest inner space saucers in sydney, australia...the harbour city!

hallucination bay

the count 3

the count 3 - a mad sufing vessel designed for staying deep in the cosmic cylinder of joy...and beyond

noosa heads, queensland, Australia - and all the children have gone a little bit...mad

peter farrelly here, riding a count 3 surfboard - a member of the new breed of young, brash, WILD! surfers from the darkened culdesacs of sunshine beach - a strange lunatic who has been hangn' around with the wrong kind of kids, but who is too far gone to realise it - demonstrating a radical new style of surfing informed by a youth spent in the beat dives - lurking in the shadows of knight...crazy psych music...fuzz guitar...wig out...feeling purple...tasting green...

peter farrelly has levitation - don't trip on that banana peel peter!

another surf, another planet

andre georgieff, the photographer, going left on a cosmic shoe, on another planet

the pandoras perform in a haunted sea cave

a seagull conjures up an image of kent turkich - contemplative

the messiah @ hallucination bay

saturday's children

sara page casts a spell over a port city - just one look and nothing else exists

in a mysty blue cove on the edge of armageddon, kent turkich continues a universal quest into the innermost vortex of the breaking wave, the cosmic cylinder, the crystal ship - noseriding is over (again). pic andre georgieff

a mystery trip to a far-off land of surf, pleasure and freedom...freedom...freedom?

the australian surfing resurrection takes-off

The critical slide society in the western deserts – the last wall of the castle

It has been announced that founding member of the insects that are not aliens surfing club, Kent Turkich, has secured a shady deal with Shakn’ Sam Coombes of the critical slide society, who are based in Sydney, Australia – the harbour city, on the harbour, in Sydney. The transcontinental deal, said to be valued in the tens of dollars, was secured by wire at about 6:15 pm eastern standard time, with the participants identifying the Western deserts, the suburbs on the edge of boomtown, and some of the inner city dumps, as being in need of deliverance in terms of the critical slide society ethos - a message of freedom emanating from the id - and not dissimilar to that spoken by the insect surfers themselves - a call for truth - for self - for sanctuary amongst a zombie-state fooled by illusory prosperity, by Wall Street mind merchants forging a lie, a need, a false need, for a Prado, a neat lawn the size of a golf course, and a dog to pick up after. Ladies and gentlemen and children of the desert, these are exciting times – a storm is coming and mediocrity will be washed away, like scum. Surfers on the west coast should consider their state of mind, being, and very spirit carefully before associating with this partnership, but you will definitely succumb to the ultimate temptation, the critical slide society, as it brings down the last wall of the castle (the pyramid crumbles).

the latest from the new york stock exchange

gsi up two and 3/4s - mental illness split 3 for 1 - ulcers up 1 - the australian surfing resurrection, that's the australian surfing resurrection, is up 10 points - the great society, unfortunately is down five points. the boomstate is a cultural culdesac requiring something sacred

count 3 - the messiah

a triumph of cosmic knowing - understanding the secrets of space and time - a conspiracy of mysticism and autistic precision - the insectsurf jordan nobel pop art experimental trust - glassed by sean nettleton

a strange presence beneath the noosa festival of surfing

pic justin bevan

Lachlan Leckies mad mad MAD! world of surfing at the noosa festival of surfing!

Marvel as the intrepid director of the Australian surfing resurrection film saga tramps through the wild-wild-Wild! darkness of haunted forests, amongst the reeds, coming from behind the patient hills like a mad moon, leaving the company of gay gnomes and vampires there, to capture the children of the resurrection, gut-sliders, sick like 66, fantastic vee bottom freeks smelling the flowers as if it’s the last day on earth, gloomy inward-looking kiosk-dwellers realising something huge and independent has come into their dreams, escaping the tragic air of the competition like death in the hidden coves – 16mm film, in vivid colour – the Australian Surfing Resurrection Film in Noosa.

its a mad mad mad world of bellyboards

champions of surf and art will take to vintage pacific bellyboards with keen skill and reckless, gay abandon! don't miss it boys and girls, during the noosa festival of surfing, wednesday march 16, 5-7pm, at noosa longboards. all bellyboards are for sale to the tune of frantic mod sounds, scones and the simplest form of surfing sweeping the nation, a sensation, a crazy, bellyboarding sensation!

Sydney australia

matt chonoski gos...right. an old man looks on. (pic sproutdaily)

DAley tripper

like a child in a sweet shoppe, evan daley has shed the veil of tears tying him to the grim illusions of yestrday - taking to the colonies - and a tomorrow realising outstanding creativity, originality, sensitivity and sheer (other) dimension - a daley tripper smelling little flowers with the honey bees in the fields of...love (click on pic for gato heroi madblog)

good lord this is ravin' madd - radio shy-c

a mystic tide brought a madd message to the insect bat-shed tomorrow - a crazed garage lunatic from the forests of eastern europe has been eminating to the general ether all kinds of insane fuzz and garage and psychedelic, moondelic!, sounds - lost blasts of truth and outrageous insight into the universal mind of the beat of 66 - the shadows of knight - venus fly traps - sir winston and the commons - sound sounds of reality - we the people, and wolf girl, are astounded...check this ludacrous link out by clicking on the pic...derranged!

kai from hamburg, in germany, gets his bowl cut, 5 years from now, another time

in australia, the resurrection is underway

Lachlan Leckie pulls out of Cobaki, on the margins of sunny Coolangatta, sporting the latest in high tech gadgetry and a very smart looking gentlemens moustache, or face fungus. Here he go's!

Kent Turkich. Out the back. Noosa Heads, Queensland, Australia.

wolf-girl peers out from a gloomy forest hide-out

something has been following me (all summer)

There's 50 000 spaceships (watching over me). Have you seen the saucers? Have you seen the saucers? Wolf-girl nods.

the australian surfing resurrection film madness

Since about October 1966, the great joy and diversity of surfing has been tormented by a darkness, a sickness, a spectre of doom rising from commercial enterprises and the stifling, limited version of surfing that gos with it. But the spirit has survived. How so, you ask? Ladies and gentlemen and children of the new dawn, despite the madness going-on in the 'surf' stores, the main-streets, and the corporate backrooms; a range of strange introverts, cove dwellers and kiosk lurkers have continued to uphold the most sacred aspects of the art, cosciousness and heart of surfing. A breakaway direction. Mindful surfboard riding. Defying the regime. Doing what they want on all soughts of crazy sliding vessels, flying saucers, handplanes, logs, vee bottoms, finless, mats, simmons. A mid-length manifesto? Why not? Minds free. Unshackled choices about love, life and surf. Whatever next? Whatever next? currently under production through reel dusty productions/lachlan leckie industries coolangatta hinterland

Peter Farrelly is an Insect

last night i awoke to the strangest dream - midget farrelly steering a vee bottom stubby so on edge the deck of the board was facing the face of the wave - he was strong and young and brash - aloof - he took it through the rotting pillars of a miserable haunted bat shed - i look at the moon - it blinks - and i look at my hands - they creep - and this is not a haunted house but the town of my birth - only webbed and porch-moving like coloured dirty dough - mad children mingle in the playground nextdoor - johnno babbles about the mid-length manifesto - and all this is covered in dead fog - but some moony arms signal the end of darkness - and i miss my girl badly - and i'm talking to the son-of-midgett about the resurrection - peter farrelly ariseth! - insect surfer

peter farrelly

In Noosa Heads, Queensland, Peter Farrelly (out the back) is quite a hit with the crowd. And why not? He's every bit the larrikan. It's gay times and jokes a-plenty as the nutty Norwegian executes the hard-to-pull-off 'nose ride' high and tight in the 'curl', riding the wave right into shore. Like a flock of Laughing Jackasses, the crowd goes mad. Exposed to an overdose of the 13th Floor Elevators, the Electric Prunes, the Seeds and other disturbing 'music' all too often heard in the beat clubs, surf clubs and sports halls, Peter recently lost his mind.

The Australian Surfing Resurrection

lacklan leckie and kent turkich conduct megabusiness related to the forthcoming resurrection. just look at their keen expressions! mad! keep an eye on those figures boys...hey, the ones on the page!

moffats beach madness

alex bulpit defends the sands and sad side streets of moffats beach against deadbeats - a turtle orchestrates heavy thunder - a waterfall comes from the tragic cliffs - rainbow

the japanese surfing resurrection? insects in noosa sponnoed by noosa longboards

Is everybody in? The resurrection is about to begin.

Sydney, Australia, a big city by the sea. pic justin bevan

Thomas Bexon, just down from the Sunshine Coast, shows the Sydney men a thing or two about style from the...other side...of the border...and surfing, overall. The hard to execute 'pivot turn'. Dangerous but effective. Look out! pic justin bevan

Chonoski, the greaser, surveys the soup from the confines of a his slightly lowered Valiant - saying 'naa, you boys should have been here 5 years from now (chuckle)' pic justin bevan

Bobby Brown go's left!

Cronulla Sunny Craziness. Matt Johnson sets up a tricky 'stall' in the most dangerous part of the curl. Here he go's!

days of quiet sun

surfers out of the habit of scientists hallucinations

tim crabtree straightens himself out in new zealand

In his earlier days he'd been to sea, learning the ropes and rigmarol of that way of life; sky-larking in a manner which defied his refined background; heir to the greater part of the potato crops covering the sad southern end of England, a fortune in spuds sustaining misadventure, wandering and tremendous joy; carbohydrates shakily upholding a rudderless course to discover the depths of the ocean as much as the cracked, impure psychology of a machine-gun intellect verging on the edge of the edge of insanity, as on the edge of the flat Earth. A sunshine coast castaway. He secured love in New Zealand. And other pleasures. Tim Crabtree understands

the darkness has passed over and a new dawn has begun

are you gonna be there?

i had too much to dream last night. it may seem like i'm coming on strong, but this summer will deliver a vee bottom revival as reported to me through the red telephone in a kind of whispering, just a dream from yesterday, coloured circles making their way around. quietly at first. but with increasing fidelity, mumurs from places, meddling with midlengths in california, noosa and a ragged pounding from coolangatta; rigmaroll curdling toward lift-off in january 2011. a paradigm shift started in 67 surely and rightfully realised despite the epoch of darkness which subsequently subjugated it for forty five years since the advent of commercialism, of competition, of marketing by meatheads, landlocked jocks depriving introverts and other enlightened souls of the truth they know is there, beyond the covers of the dogma they peddle as magazines, fashion and other ploys. all gods children gonna have there freedom. vee day. the vee bottom revival, noosa, summer 2011. are you gonna be there? do you understand the secrets of space and time?

just let go

1966 TO THE PRESENT, THIS IS TIMELESS JOY

TRIPPN' BALLS PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS THE ORACLE FORMATION

The Australian Surfing Resurrection is an easy mechanism for independent, wild or otherwise unrestrained surfers/artists to promote their creations without the mad insane complex which generally runs the industry. Freedom from magabusiness. An undisturbed flow from artist to practioner. Coming soon...freaks!

VEE DAY - DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE SECRETS OF SPACE AND TIME?

mctavish tripn' balls and pulling out the prototype for the current vee bottom revival

chonoski vee bottom test summer 2011

5 years ahead of the present time

share a little joke with the world. timeless joy. the insect

SUMMER 2010/11 VEE BOTTOM REVIVAL

Acid rain on witherted skin, acid tongue and a crazy grin. This is the summer of vee bottom rivival. Refined. Edgy. The cricket bat is gone, but the potential for embryonic involvement, nestled in the bossom of your own mystery and memory, yet very present, remains. A Magic Carpet ride? Perhaps. Its written in the Oracle this will happen again...and soon. Its very important.

THE SUMMER OF GAY ABANDON - VINTAGE PACIFIC SURFCRAFT

AUSTRALIAN SURF RESURRECTION - INSECT

INSECT-ASIDES CLOTHING FOR THE AUSTRALIAN SURF RESURRECTION

Designed and printed on the side-streets of Australian surf cities from fabrics which won't pill, go weird around the collar or otherwise disintergrate. To be worn as part of the Australian surf resurrection. Care instructions - don't. Sales enquiries - insectsurf@bigpond.com.

THE RESURRECTION

Jock bahen. Always on-edge. His mind drifts to dirt bike riding. Unannounced adventures by yacht to the old world. Hang-gliding. Once a year he returns to the soup and reminds us he is the best log rider in the world. If he could only...keep his...mind on the job.

later that afternoon, discussing the new era, street of cosciousness, of course

THE AUSTRALIAN SURF RESURRECTION

Ladies and gentlemen and children of the insect, hot-doggers, kooks, rubbernecks, pork-choppers, cellar dwellars, swamp inhabitants, sharpies and others; allow me to lay down the following news. This is to announce the death of the thinnest regime of truth which has dominated the art of surfing since the early epochs, from 1966 until yesterday morning at about 8:13 am, whereupon a think tank to do with a new style of on-edge surfing took place on the shores of Western Australia, Australia. No longer constrained by the mad insane complex of commerciality and sanitation which has reigned down upon the freedom and joy of what would otherwise be free thinking individuals, a contingent of surfers opened their minds to new dimensions of pure surf, direct from the id, portraying the limitlessness of the art as much as themselves; forsaking the demands of rule books and time itself, of suburban mind-locked defeatism. Lachlan Leckie of Coolangatta, New South Wales. Parrish Watts, Nooosa Heads, Queensland. Kent Turkich and Jock Bahen, locals but gypsies. As the sea turned to gold, the wind subsided, these boys really turned on. A style of surfing never seen in these parts. Growing awareness of what was at hand. Of the fragments, distant moments, thoughts, realities...coming together like atoms. A consolidated movement. A head-cock in the direction of Midget, a hint of Russel Hughes, gestures taken from the breadth of the glossary but improvised, unshackled, and generally in spite of mediocrity, homogeneity.

If you go there. To Australia. Do be aware that a revolution of the self, of the spirit, is happening on those sunny shores, every very bit as much as an Australian Surf Resurrection. Kent Turkich

kent turkich expresses his approval

BABY YOU'RE A MOONFISH (EYE)

THE 2010 OLD MAL WHALEBONE CLASSIC - THE ORACLE CONTINGENT BOOM STATE CONFUSION

INSECT SURFBOARDS

The untold insight of you unshackled mind

Space time compression will testify that we are tops now as then, and these Jordan Nobel space vessels with Kent Turkich speculation will deliver YOU from the drudgery of domestic hell to the mood of the Insects That Are Not Aliens Surfing Club. Midget Farrely revivalists! Ted Spencer revisionists! Timeless surfing in an age where time is irrelevant, a borderless sea, at last. A garage rock revival...of sorts. Katoomba hey!

Australian Surf Resurrection!

Three models depicting the heights of Australian surfing in the mid to late 60s. Refined for timeless surfing – a modified Sam from the hot generation, a 67 style vee bottom stubby to cure the loveless, and a Spenceresque spoon for embryonic involvent. Pure joy friends. Pure joy...
AVAILABLE BY EASY ONLINE PURCHASE SOON THROUGH THE ORACLE FORMATION

AUSTRALIAN SURF RESURRECTION; THESE ARE INCREDIBLE TIMES...

INITIAL ENCOUNTERS WITH THE COUNT 3 OF THE THIRD KIND WOULD SUGGEST THAT IT IS GOD

sara considers the insect/note surfboards collaboration which gave rise to the most fine new traditional log informed by local demands, noosa homelesness - surf club food scavengers eating canned soup from a cracked plastic bowl, 6 months in a leaky holden...rejoice!

NZ VEE BOTTOM VISIONS

a lady in the swamps of munna point noosa handed us these pictures. she cleaned the fires and facilities in that general area. one of the men in stubbies is her brother, nz, 1967. hair style confusion, vee bottoms like the back of cricket bats, naive child-like psychedelic slogans - what else do you want? around about crescent head acid rain fell our our whithered skin, and on the prints

the other side

JORDAN NOBEL SPEAKS!

or something.
its not me its an incarnation of me.
im not there.
or here.
or anywhere.
the crazy never die for sure.

THE COUNT FIVE

NOOSA 2010

kent @ ttree - sharing

VINTAGE PACAFIC SURFCRAFT TEST TTREE BAY 2010

Look, it's brother Parrish. He's as popular with the birds as he is the lads!

TALES FROM NEW ZEALAND

Sunny Noosa. Seems there's a wave at every corner. And don't the kids love it! And why shouldn't they? Sporting the latest in VPS belly board designs (they come in all the colours of the rainbow by the way) these sun sucking boys and girls are demonstrating previously unseen acts of crusher defiance, dumper dexterity, pipe proficiency; showing extraordinary skill and expertise behind the 'curl', and now you can get lucky (hang on - in the surf that is), experience the same thrill, all across Australia through Vintage Pacific Surfcraft and Insect. Hey junior can i have a go? Sure daddy-o, these come in all shapes and sizes for hangers-on and hotdoggers alike - just let go...

sara and insect mobile

THE INSECT SURF JORDAN NOBEL POP ART EXPERIMENTAL TRUST TAKES FLIGHT

Jordan Nobel is an angelhearted hipster who has been otherwise engaged in the usual cosmic misadventures over the festering season (perfect days in Crescent Head, Northern, New South Wales, Australia, albeit with otherworldly figures in tow). He has landed. And just in tyme to join minds with the insect to finally complete the great Australian 66 surf resurrection, the Keven Brennan revival. The space time continuum will testify that we are tops now as then (with a gay cheerio to all our international friends, we love you all), and Jordan Nobel space vessels with Kent Turkich speculation will deliver YOU from the drudgery of domestic hell to the id of insect ideology, timeless surfing in an age where time is irrelevant, a borderless sea, at last...Our new models will emerge over the month. Rest easy, friends.

xxx

children of the sun - kent and sara, heart of insect

NOW'S NO TIME TO HESITATE - SUMMERTIME DEAR KIDDIES AND ITS TIME TO TAKE A TRIP

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

the first epoch of the insects that are not aliens surfing club got too enormous - it was interfering with satellite and spaceship signals in the hinterlands. please follow the second epoch of the insects that are not aliens surfing club - the era of do what you want surfing - on tumbr. music and other sights forthcoming. go to http://insectsurf.tumblr.com/ but don't blow your mynd...away

Saturday, November 3, 2012

a second epoch of the insects that are not aliens surfing club has arisen - at http://insectsurfeternal.blogspot.com.au/ - more wyld more space. become a member of the insects eternal recurrence weirdos!
pic - the trypper flex fin by the mystical salty merchants contact kent insectsurf@bigpond.com or lachlan leckie lach@thesaltymerchants.com

DAWN OF THE INSECT

The insect life is a damning portrayal of a groups disengagement with the rules of surfing, science and society in fervour of riding 67 style longboards, 68 style vee bottoms and 69 style spenceresque spoons (amongst other forgotten, functionally fulfilling equipment) while sporting soiled stubbies, rubber and moustaches (not so much on the sisters).With their jazz addled philosophies on life, lust and loot, and scant regard for good taste, these delinquents surf in the kind of demented manner which has inspired indifference from the local thrusterology up and down the harsh, haunted coast of Western Australia and the sublime tropical slumber of Noosa. At least average, and usually god.Built from nothing but high hopes and thin air, and fervant from too many viewings of The Hot Generation, Evolution and Sea of Joy - while listening to a mind melting amount of 60s garage punk and Las Vegas grind - there is no cure for the disease which is The Insects That Are Not Aliens Surfing Club. Rest easy children, for tomorrow they may wake up dead.

TRUTH IN SURFING - THE RECENT HISTORY OF SURFING ACCORDING TO THE INSECTS

The more recent history of surfing represents a spiritually productive period for our species during which the thirst for self expression provoked the changing shape and function of surfboards in a manner reflective of personal growth, the awakening of the human mind, and the enrichment of culture in general. Not withstanding the highly tuned alaia and other raw, wooden equipment which sprouted in parallel amongst ancient maritime societies, over the last 60 years new ideas have found a footing in improved technological proficiency, so that the a surfer’s trajectory on a wave has come to befit the boundless nature of reality and of the soul itself.

In Australia in the early 60s surfboards embodied the culture of the times: straight and limiting. Rudimentary, raw and easily capable of breaking your leg, these 9 to 10 foot boards were ruddered by a ‘D’ shaped skeg intent on maintaining the most direct fall line. Regardless, adopting the secrets of Californian cool relinquished by the Gidget movies, an army of grotty youths in tan desert boots embraced the craze, their bag a conspiracy of Phil Edwards’ functional dexterity, Miki Dora’s dark, beatnik mystique, and garnering some of the grace of Mary Ann Hawkins. Fusing Middle Eastern rhythms with those of Manly Beach peelers, the Atlantics broke like a storm with the crash and tumble of Bombora, just as the momentum of the surfing movement peeked in Australia, propelling the mantis prancing Australian superstar Midget Farrelly to world champion. By the end of 1964, however, the Beatles had beaten interest in Midget and the surfing fad itself with Mersey-beat. Surfboard design, on the other hand, began a metamorphosis.

By 1965, as the Easybeats chirped She’s So Fine in a Kinksy flurry that spawned Easyfever, Sydneyside surfers buzzed to the newly found flexibility of increasingly raked, hydrodynamic fins emerging from the think tank surrounding the World Titles in the preceding year. Boards remained heavy: wooden stringers and double 12 ounce fibreglass cloth cemented that condition. But new concepts were infiltrating like worm holes. Concave surfaces and other design quirks elevated the nose of the surfboard, allowing ascendency to the all but religious nose riding manoeuvre which had slid over from the United States. David Nuuhiwa was at the tip of the noseriding fetish in the California, clocking up astounding perch time on the front of his signature vessels. But around the time psyche pop group the Strawberry Alarm Clock were thinking up the slight hit Incense and Peppermints, Australian Surfers were dreaming up a new style of on-edge surfing.

In 1966 Nat Young won the World Title. Nuuhiwa was relieved of his throne, noseriding took a dive and was blown away. Cheekily, John Witzig announced in Surfer Magazine -What is the future? We’re on top and will continue to dominate world surfing. California surfing is so tied and stifled by restrictions that are its own creation, and the other countries simply do not have the necessary abilityIronically it was expat Californian kneeboarder (and, strangely enough, purveyor of the blow-up surfmat) George Greenough who perceived a line between the fin morphology of pelagic fish and surfboard fin design, and began to draw it. Sporting tiny shorts in floral or beige, helmet haircuts and the occasional Paul McCartney Sergeant Pepper era wispy moustache, a small ensemble of maverick Aussie surfers went on the run. Roused by Greenough’s tube riding insights and the challenge mounted against normal notions of perception by Bob McTavish, hot young riders including Ted Spencer and Keven Brennan fled the city for the northeastern pointbreaks and, with flowers in their eyes, brought about boundary busting board lengths and curl teasing cutbacks that came to define the new freedom in the blissed-out Hot Generation. Victorian super kid Wayne Lynch watched on from Lorne, soon to break through. Caressing the curl, saluting the soup and cocking the head pushed involvement with the power of the wave. The shackles of straight line surfing enforced by limited thought and single minded ‘D’ fins had been unpicked. At the same time, popular music squeezed out of the orderly blue print prescribed by Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly, transported toward free form jazzy meandering and fifth dimensional aspirations. Rules regarding clothing were discarded. Haircuts were cancelled. Belts loosened. But as Adelaide’s Masters Apprentices lurched into rambling blues solos and long-winded progressive rock jams, the turning and speed mastering ability afforded by Greenough’s foils meant boards became shorter.

In an effort to bring turning to a crescendo, the stringerless vee-bottom stubby made contact in 1967 in the form of Bob McTavish’s Plastic Machine. Probably fervent from too much springtime exuberance and the scent of approaching psychedelia, the heralding of the cricket season in that year seemed to infect the design tendencies of the rhythm and blues loving former disc jockey, who responded by placing what looked like the back of a Grey-Nichols cricket bat on the bottom of what were typically 8 foot boards. The lysergic soaked confusion of the film The Fantastic Plastic Machine gives a glimpse of the stupidly proportioned space vessels performing in misty, mushy conditions on Sydney shores. Wayne Lynch slept to the sites of a 360 degree barrel role, rising to shape an ironing board to realise his vision, complete with child-like graphics querying as Jimmy Hendrix-

Are you experienced?

But in Hawaii, McTavish spun out. Befriending the islanders and their intricate pintails, the Honolua Sessions gave birth to more refined pocket rockets, trackers and eggs. The reign of the vee-bottom was vaporous. Its effects were eternal; especially on THE INSECTS THAT ARE NOT ALIENS SURFING CLUB. This is the golden(top) era.

Evolution and Sea of Joy showcase the diversity of board shapes bubbling and popping through this transition, all to the avante garde timing of Taman Shud; delivering a brain jolting analogy for a society set free from the constraints of the past, of orthodoxy. Morning of the Earth confirms that growth. The shortboard revolution was assured; the boards clean and pointed with down-rails. Paul Witzigs languid account of country soul single fin migration suggests -

We are the measure of all things. And the beauty of our creation, of our art is proportional to the beauty of ourselves. Jonas Mekas

The meditative Morning of the Earth upholds that sense to the present, as a reference point for searchers. Furthermore, as a fort for the mentality of soul and freedom through surfing, the movie and its folky soundtrack have stood against erosion by those forces which seek to forge the thinnest edge of surfing’s truth upon an innocent market. By the 1970s business was getting in the way. Even so, there were many great surfers. Michael Peterson hid behind Kirra walls. Mark Richardson soared. Cheyne Horan was as brattish as he was brilliant. His winged keel clad Lazer Zap was mint. Breaking out of the west and refusing to fade like INXS, Ian ‘Kanga’ Cairns was monstrous. Paying homage to the early 70s bonza (devised by Californias Campbell brothers) Simon Anderson devised the thruster setup, enabling unreal slashabilty. The corporations pounced. The 1980s saw surfing take on a garish capitalist face like fluorescent pink zinc as competition and aggression severed its soulful roots.Recovery.

As ‘shorts’ promoting major brands approached the ankles like banners, and the colour faded on competition surfing, San Diego’s Joel Tudor re-assessed. Dumping modern shortboards and longboards alike, he picked up where Nuuhiwa left off, reimagining the very same equipment in use just prior to the shortboard revolution and asking ‘what if?’ Joel visited the past in the context of the future. He transcended all the conditions that connive toward one fashion, one truth, and proceeded to relearn the riding of vintage logs, barely updated Donald Takayama cruisers and odd Evolution era eggs. More jazz than rock, mimicking Miles Davis: an appreciation for the spaces between the major moves. The cocky but respectful genius reinstated surfing as a vehicle for dodging imposed notions of normality. That approach was scavenged by a barrage of frothing surfers, artists and punks such as Alex Knost, CJ Nelson and Jai lee. And in a development which continues to contemporary times amidst a legion of enlightened youths, incredible female surfers taking their rightful place as the most stylish on the planet, and emancipated seniors, Joel Tudor presented the limitless array of surfing equipment and behaviours as once again acceptable, re-establishing the hallowed basis of its conception -